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like he was a mountain. Moving slow. The vodka. But she smiled when she felt how hard he was for her. She rubbed against him, and he moaned. The thin cloth of that last layer between them tormented his entire being. Her head fell against his pillow; her lips touched his ear. She let out a giant snore.
    Bob sighed, carefully cradled her in his arms, put her in a comfortable position on her own pillow, then covered her with the light summer blanket. He got out of bed and dressed. He sat on the edge of the bed watching her sleep for a long while, then finally, when he was sure she’d be okay, because she tossed and turned and snored and muttered in her sleep, he went home.
    He got in his car and drove and as the radio blasted out “I Bet My Life” he wondered, could what they’d come up with—this crazy scenario—be true? Or were they both just spinning stories? And what about her plan with the gun and the filming? She’d need a second person. Was all this just a plan to seduce and enlist him? And would it work? He just didn’t know. And he didn’t know anyone he could ask. Unless.
    He didn’t know where else to go, so he turned in when he got to Fast Eddie’s place. The neon light that shone down from the top of the barn-like structure when the bar was open was dark. The smaller neon light with the same hot pink and blue colors as the big sign when it was turned on, the one that said OPEN, was also dark.
    Bob checked the dash clock. Yeah, the place had been closed for hours. The sun would be coming up any minute. He made a fist with his hand and took knuckles to his stiff neck. Too long sitting staring at one place, one woman. He used to think that when he built his first house, he’d become a man. Now he knew he’d only really be a man when he saw Lily through this mess. The gun. The confession. He had to step up. And he had to do it alone. She was the only woman in the world he’d do something like this for—it wasn’t about sex—it was about protecting the woman he loved.

Chapter Three
    Courtney stood on the sidewalk lacing up her walking shoes, thinking about Edward and how they’d left things this morning. It had all gone from wonderful and impossible to just sucking in minutes. She was confused and sad. The shrink needed some therapy, but all she could think to do was undress and wrap herself in her soft childhood blanket. She slept for several hours, the jet lag catching up with her, then had dinner with the family before deciding to take a solo walk around her old neighborhood.
    She passed Doc’s old house, so many memories of cuts and bruises and once or twice a broken bone being set in his house, which had also been his office. A For Sale sign was hammered into the lawn and by the looks of it, had been there awhile. Not many people wanted a big red-brick four square. Most new buyers liked the cozy 1950s cottages. This was a place for a family. Her family.
    With Courtney, it was all about following her strong intuition. Every good move she’d made had been through her own actions. Every bad move had been instigated by someone else. Like when Xander had showed up on her doorstep and moved right in without even asking. She’d been flattered at first, grateful for the companionship second, and then just sort of settled in. But it had been wrong. It had not been her choice; it had been his. She could fix that. It was time. In fact, well overdue. Even if she just kept this place for a vacation spot, a get-away, just stayed the summer, she wanted it. She had her own money, and the San Diego house was a rental. She wanted a home. Here. Now. It felt right.
    Even though it was way late, the sun had not quite set, so Courtney took out her phone and called the Realtor.
    He apparently wasn’t too busy because he came right over with a key.
    She had no idea what she was doing, but in her mind she thought about color and chintz and decorative touches like carved cornice boards that would make the Bryman school